


Longing For Your Heartbeat

by TargaryenHeaven



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Miscarriage, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:21:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23335309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TargaryenHeaven/pseuds/TargaryenHeaven
Summary: "You belong somewhere safe, somewhere where the grass is green and the flowers are blooming and you can plant as many trees as you want."
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 13
Kudos: 95





	Longing For Your Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. I tweeted about the 100 prompt challenge, but for those who don't follow me on Twitter, basically I'm dealing with a massive writer's block so I decided to write 100 drabbles based on prompts from Tumblr. My Twitter is @targaryenheaven, if anything from the list catches your attention, let me know if I should make that prompt my priority.
> 
> Prompt number one: Do you want me to leave?
> 
> I don't know where this came from, but I felt like writing a sad story. Sorry. It does have a happy ending though.

She was dressed in nothing but her white sleeping gown when he came in. He closed the door behind himself, startling her, pulling her back from the depths of despair her mind relentlessly tried to trap her in. The silver dragon pin she held in her small hands slipped from her fingers, landing on the cold, stone ground next to her bare feet.  
  
Their eyes met, the strap of her white sleeping gown falling off her shoulder when she relaxed, simultaneously revealing her pale chest to him. But her eyes, they were red from crying, her cheeks stained with tears. She wiped them clean as best as she could, but she could never hide her true feelings from him.  
  
He let out a long, heavy sigh, releasing the tension in his body that was suffocating him, and he could feel his heart shatter inside his chest. Before taking another step, he sadly whispered, "Oh, Dany."  
  
"Your Grace," she weakly smiled. Or gave him something that resembled a smile. "Or Daenerys. Please. Anything but _that._ "

"Don't do this. Please, don't do this." Jon stood before her. His calloused hands were covered in cuts and bruises, yet when he touched her, on her skin they felt as soft as silk. "I am sorry, Dany. I am so, so sorry." He got on his knees before her, and pressed his cheek on her thighs and finally, after so long, allowed himself to sob.  
  
Warm tears dampened the material of her gown. Her hands clutched on the blanket she was sitting on, her owns tears spilling once again, but she couldn't touch him, couldn't bring herself to feel his warmth, because she knew one touch wouldn't be enough, she would need more of him, more of his love, and so she let him cry for the tiny little thing that never was.  
  
"Jon," she softly called for him, "don't cry, Jon."

"Tell me everything. Gods, tell me _anything_. Please, Dany." When he looked up at her, she was looking away, at the door or at the blank wall, he couldn't quite say. All he knew was that it wasn't his eyes she was staring at.  
  
"Barely 3 moons," she said, finally looking down, and into his dark eyes. A single tear fell down her cheek.  
  
Jon understood.  
  
"I'm sorry-" he began, but her finger on his mouth made him swallow the rest of his apology.  
  
"It's not your fault. Don't apologize."  
  
"I wasn't there. I wasn't there to protect you. Forgive me for that, at least."

"But, Jon," she held him the same way she did after the feast. "Don't you understand? We can't control these things. I fought. I ran. I fell. The life inside me fought a war before it even saw the light of the day. Who's to blame for that?"

"Them," Jon responded bitterly. "All of them, the lords and the smallfolk, and the free folk, and- and- and Bran and Arya and Sansa and the Night King and the dead. How many more wars do I have to fight Dany, before I can rest? How many more enemies do I need to kill before I can have the son I always dreamed about but never dared to wish for? How many winters do I need to welcome before I can sit in the green grass with the woman I love?"

Dany could not give him an answer. A son, she thought. He wanted a son. The thought of a small boy in Jon's arms made her smile, though she knew he would love a daughter just as much. Jon was not like everyone else.  
  
"I used to dream about blood, death, wars. Swords clashing. Snow and ice. Now I dream of spring." He paused. "You don't belong in King's Landing, Dany. You belong somewhere safe, somewhere where the grass is green and the flowers are blooming and you can plant as many trees as you want."  
  
"And you don't belong here." Here, in Winterfell, she wanted to say.  
  
"No, I don't," Jon agreed.  
  
They sat in silence. Jon, back on the ground with his head in her lap, Dany with a hand over her belly. Then her other hand found its way to his curled hair.  
  
"I would've named him Rhaegar," she whispered.  
  
"It's a nice name."  
  
"He was a good man."  
  
"Perhaps someday you could tell me a story about him."  
  
"Yes," she agreed. I will tell you all about him, she thought. "It's been a long day. I've no more words to say, I'm afraid. You're free to leave, get some rest. We can talk tomorrow."  
  
"Do you want me to leave?" Jon asked, standing up.  
  
The emptiness in her stomach hurt her more than she was ready to admit. A piece of her died, and when she saw the pleading look on Jon's face, she knew only he could complete her again.  
  
She knew he wouldn't leave if she said no. He would sleep on the floor, next to her bed, or in the chair, but he would never leave her alone. So she took his hand. "No," she simply told him, "no, I don't want you to leave."

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated. Until next time! :)


End file.
